


From Soho, With Love

by CopperBeech



Series: From Soho, With Love [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bar Room Brawl, Crossover, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Holosuites, Humor, Jadzia Dax Lives, Miscommunication, Pranks, Snake Crowley, Time Travel, do not copy to another site, mild crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24078145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperBeech/pseuds/CopperBeech
Summary: The demon Crowley's first trip into the future was an accidental whirlwind through Quark's holosuites -- a virtual adventure that became a life-and-death predicament.Now that the world's saved, Heaven and Hell are suitably intimidated, and he's got the rewarding life with his angel that he never dared hope for, he thinks it's time to do some more leisurely touring. After all, where better to take a spouse who's lived all through humanity's past than humanity's future? Especially if there are restaurants. And gambling. And spy games.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Elim Garak, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) & Julian Bashir, Kira Nerys & Benjamin Sisko, Kira Nerys & Jadzia Dax, Miles O'Brien & Julian Bashir & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: From Soho, With Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737139
Comments: 123
Kudos: 83





	1. Back To The Future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IvyOnTheHolodeck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyOnTheHolodeck/gifts), [kb91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kb91/gifts).



> The comments on _Our Man Crowley_ , in which our favourite demon’s journey through the telephone networks detours into time-travel, absolutely bubbled with ideas for more hijinks. This may get crackier as things go on.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations about and aboard a Federation space– station with more than one shortcut to distant climes.
> 
> _“I’ve never seen a spirit eat two desserts.”_
> 
> _“Three.”_
> 
> _“Though he did seem very interested in the Gratitude Festival. He offered to perform a blessing, if the Vedeks didn’t object... I don't know why, but I'd like that.”_
> 
> _“Anthony said he’d be blessing everything in sight.”_
> 
> _“We don’t have a crush on_ Anthony _, do we?”_
> 
> _“I never. He appeals to the Curzon in me._ Okay, _the eyes are cute.”_

“No. Absolutely not. There is no way I am going to allow my component energies to be scrambled through not just a telephonic switching station but some sort of _temporal hiatus – “_

“Oh, come on, Angel. It’ll be fun. I’ve had bags of time to sort out exactly how it happened, it’s still there, I checked it this afternoon – came right out in the middle of some awful, crude orgy program – “

“Hmph. I’m sure you enjoyed that.”

“I _did._ Several citizens of that brave future will be looking for their underwear for a long, long time.”

“Why am I not in the slightest astonished?”

“You’d like Julian. Keen to meet _you_. Wants you to join us for a session. I told him you were no stranger to undercover work.”

“I am _not_ involving myself in sordid orgies of the future.”

“Didn’t mean _that._ I slipped right out –– “

“I trust you might want to rephrase that.”

“ _Left the scene of the crime,_ all right? Found Julian playin' darts with his mate Miles, had a drink, let ’em show me around – ”

“Oh, you stayed a while, then.”

“Why not? You get back here right when you left. The computer and I are friends now.”

“Crowley, I’ve never known you so sociable.”

“And they have restaurants. There’s a whole concourse, tuck from all different planets -- somethin' called _gagh_ that they said you’ve got to try if you like sashimi, and –– “

“I see you’ve got your heart set on this. Very well, what does one wear to the future?”

“Well. ‘Spose a bit more than you’ve got on now.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Oh, like you struggled and pleaded – “

“You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you – _Crowley, where is my underwear?”_

* * *

“Well. I must say that was nothing like what I expected.”

“What _did_ you expect?”

“I suppose my first thought was that it was disturbingly like Hell, what I saw of it – all those things on people’s foreheads, some of the teeth – that chatty young man was actually _blue – “_

“Bolian. _Don’t_ try their food.” (1)

“The young lady with the spots warned me already, when we were comparing magic tricks. (2) She seemed nice.”

“That _young lady’s_ lived seven lifetimes. Giant intelligent slug involved, let her explain. Also, she can kick your butt with a _bat’leth.”_

“I hate to think what that even is.”

“Let’s just say it's a match for a flaming sword. Maybe you two could try a bout in one of the suites.”

“Really, Crowley, you know I’ve never duelled for sport. That business back in 1823 was an assignment.” (3)

“Big deal with the Klingons, seems.”

“Now those are the ones with the thumbprint between the eyes – ?”

“Those're Cardassians. Worf’s a Klingon. They’re sort of like Vikings, angel, you'll pick it up as you go along.”

“That large ridgey chap? He was looking at us rather balefully.”

“That’s just Worf, reckon he’s always like that. He did say he’d be _honoured” –_ Crowley thumped a fist to his thin chest in exaggerated mimicry – “to take you to the Klingon restaurant if you would condescend. Introduce you to their opera.”

“What do you imagine prompted that?”

“Ah, got up my nose a bit when I heard him tell Jadzia you looked soft. I said you were a warrior who’d _defied our gods_ – ‘nother thing they’re big on – “ (4)

“You really _must_ stop talking me up like this. Your Dr. Bashir fellow seems to think I was actually a master spy at one point, he was simply _hanging_ off my words. It was uncomfortable.”

“Oh right, that’s why you were grinning from ear to ear.”

“Nonsense.”

“Next week then?”

“Of course, dear.”

* * *

“Kira! I wish you could have stayed longer last night. We had a magic duel.” (5)

“Who won?”

Dax’s nose crinkled wickedly, what could be seen of it over her double _raktajino._ “He’s _awful._ But so sweet that no one said anything.”

“Where did Julian meet them again?”

“The holosuites – you know how it is, Quark's just makes people friendly. You should have seen Anthony at the Dabo tables.” (6)

“What exactly is a 'Principality' anyway? My translator can’t quite find a Bajoran equivalent.”

“I think it's a kind of spirit who watches over things on Earth. I gather he controlled access to an agricultural facility of some kind at one point."

“I’ve never seen a spirit eat two desserts.”

“Three.”

“Though he _did_ seem very interested in the Gratitude Festival. He offered to perform a blessing, if the Vedeks didn’t object... I don't know why, but I'd like that.”

“Anthony _said_ he’d be blessing everything in sight.”

“We don’t have a crush on _Anthony,_ do we?”

“I never. He appeals to the Curzon in me. _Okay_ , the eyes are cute.”

“ _Youuuu_ like a bit of a bad boy.”

“So does your _Principality,_ I think.”

“Old man? I hope I’m not interrupting.”

When Captain Sisko said it that way, it meant he didn’t care in the least whether he was interrupting.

“Captain! I – “

“I’ll see you up on the bridge, Commander.”

“Yes, sir.” Jadzia left so quickly that Sisko had to catch her chair to keep it from toppling over, and Kira was left gazing up over the rim of her cup at her commanding officer.

He looked pissed.

_To be continued…_

(1) Bolian cuisine, according to canon, includes dishes made with decayed meat and various caustics. Not up to the Ritz's standards.

(2) This would be the influence of Tobin Dax, the engineer host to the Dax symbiont, described by Jadzia as having “not much of a sex life” but an impressively nerdy skill set.

(3) It is unclear what Aziraphale refers to here, but he tended to get close-mouthed and irritable whenever Crowley mentioned "the delopement of Prague."

(4) The Klingon wedding ceremony commemorates the way that the first two Klingon hearts destroyed the gods that made them ("You Are Cordially Invited," s6e7). Worf takes his people's traditions very seriously.

(5) Aziraphale is clearly kidding himself about his willingness to duel.

(6) Crowley had never met a game of chance he couldn’t figure out how to cheat at, and was eager to expand his repertoire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, share, reblog, comment! Fanart and podfic more than welcome.
> 
> Come say hello on Tumblr @CopperPlateBeech


	2. Everybody Needs A Hobby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian's favourite pastime has to briefly go on hold while Captain Sisko sorts things out, but one of Odo's recreations gains a new flourish.

The desk in Sisko’s office had never looked so large. Nor Kira felt so small. She’d gotten used to Sisko’s benevolent but fair command style – meaning that although he would chew your butt if he thought you needed some teeth marks as a memory refresher, it was nothing _personal_ – but it had never felt like this.

“So, Major. It seems that _five_ of my senior staff were seen last evening in Quark’s with a pair of visitors who very strangely never showed up on any passenger list that the Constable can provide. And I’m indebted not to my second-in-command, who was _among the party,_ but to a Bajoran _Dabo girl_ for the information.”

“Tayra. She’s very new...”

“She came to me in my capacity as the Emissary. Very apologetic – very troubled – but – there were people emerging from the holosuites who’d never entered them to begin with. Could these be pagh-wraiths? Or sent by the Prophets? And if so, why did one of them clean out everyone, _Dax_ included, at the Dabo tables?”

“That must have happened after I left. I was on shift early.”

“I ask Quark,” continued Sisko as if she hadn’t spoken, “and find out that this has something to do with the holosuite malfunction that nearly got us _blown up_ a few months back, and that this is the _third_ such incident, so, Major, when were you going to _mention_ it?”

The silence simmered for a moment. She was not going to wilt. Not even for the Emissary of the Prophets. “Sir – security is Odo’s job. I leave him to do it.” _And things are awkward there right now, I’m not sure why, but we’re not bringing that up._ “And I – it never occurred to me to think there was anything suspicious involved, I wasn’t aware of the holosuite connection, and _he_ seemed so – so, well…” she heard her own voice getting smaller. “Holy. It means something to us, Captain.”

She realized that she was touching her earring.

“Holy.” The word was an expression of incredulity, a contemplation, a question.

“Yes, sir. A little like being… in the presence of an Orb. Only warmer… _friendlier_? It’s hard to express. When he asked about attending the Gratitude Ceremony…”

Sisko leaned forward on the desk. “Are these to be _frequent_ callers then?”

“I heard Julian say something about next week – “

“Then they’ll report to me on arrival. I will depend on you – though at the moment, I’m not sure _why_ – to discuss this with the others. Dismissed, Major.”

His hand went to the baseball on his desk as, tight-lipped, she turned and left; tossed it once, twice. Sometimes he daydreamed of walking away from all this to manage a team.

* * *

“They’ve been in there for an hour,” said Julian. He’d loosened his white tie, given up trying to stand at ease in what he hoped was a vaguely suppliant manner, and was sat beside the Chief on the steps to Sisko’s ready room. Every now and then Kira flashed them an inscrutable, searching look.

“Are we dead, d’ye think?” asked Miles. His Falcon eyepatch, which had started to itch, was twisted back over his ear.

“No. But Quark’s not going to keep the suite available much longer.”

* * *

“Well, after some of the things I’ve experienced since arriving on this station, it’s all more believable than I’d have said a few years ago. Your thoughts, Constable?”

“It’s .. irregular, Captain, but they’re not a race with any connection to the Dominion. Or any other hostiles that I’m aware of. Fundamentally, beings of energy. Something like the Organians, from what I know about them.”

“You _look_ pretty solid. This isn’t your essential form?””

“Um, we can – change, but the options’re sort’ve limited. Probably don’t want to see _him_ like he is all the way Upstairs…”

“Why ever wouldn’t they, dear?”

“They’d feel _stared_ at, angel. But, well, this.”

Sisko jumped back a few inches as the outlines of the gangly man in front of him shimmered and wavered, flowing into the form of a glossy black snake, thick through as Sisko’s own calf and long enough to encircle three sides of the desk. Only the golden, slitted eyes remained the same.

“Quite harmless, I assure you” – stammered the portly – _angel?_ _Really?_ – “unique to him – he doesn’t bite – well, he doesn’t bite just _anyone –”_

The snake lifted its head, swayed, displaying mottled crimson belly scales, divided tongue fluttering.

“Remarkable,” murmured Odo. “Might I? – I haven’t attempted a novel form in some time – every so often it’s bracing to make an extra effort – “

The angel’s look of mild alarm was replaced by relief as Odo seemed to concentrate a moment, tipped back his head and rippled into the shape of an identical serpent, arcing his head up as well, then dropping to traverse the carpeted floor in an arabesque of S-curves before surging upward and resolving once more into the Constable’s familiar shape. His features, such as they were, radiated delight.

“Oh, that _was_ exhilarating. I must try it again very soon.”

“I see we’re comfortable with our guests, then, Constable.”

“Ah – yes, Captain, I think anywhere on the Promenade and the observation level will be within limits – I’ll explain things – “

“All right, Constable. Dismissed. Tell Dr. Bashir and the Chief they’re reprieved. For now.”

_“”I don’t think he meant ‘making an effort’ the way we would, angel.”_

_“Well, dear. One doesn’t know about future customs. All these different species. It might be like shaking hands.”_

_“No one but me is_ shaking your hand _.”_

_“You’re adorable when you’re jealous, darling.”_

_“Ah, shut up.”_

* * *

“One stout, two whiskies, one martini, _shaken not stirred._ Just _keep them away from the Dabo tables_ this time. Last week I had to serve a round of free drinks before everyone calmed down.”

“He put down the latinum for two extra hours in the suite.”

“Well, if they finish early, _distract them_. You’ve got those big – brains. Figure something out.”

“Ah – brother? Could I talk to Leeta for a moment?”

“She’s busy. Or were you going to cover her wages for the time? Don’t forget, I’m paying her twice as much now, thanks to you.” (1)

“Oh, it, uh, won’t be that long – “

“What’s that noise?”

“Uh, what noise, brother?”

“That – _slithering_ noise. Under the -- ”

“I don’t hear anything – “

_“Aaaaaaaggghh!”_

“Careful, brother – “

“Nothing to see here, people – nothing to see – just your host who got some good news – first five people to the bar get a free root beer – _where did it go?”_

“Where did what go?

“Ten feet long – yellow eyes – size of a –– “

“Quark! Why are you standing up on the bar? Is this some unfamiliar Ferengi custom?”

“How can I help you, Constable?”

––––––––––––––––––––––

_Where is Garak? Has Worf made an opera selection? Is there a bat’leth demonstration in the offing?_

_To be continued…_

(1) The events of “Bar Association” (s4e16) have clearly occurred since Crowley’s initial adventure..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying, share, reblog, comment! Fanart and podfic more than welcome.
> 
> Come say hello on Tumblr @CopperPlateBeech


	3. Cultural Exchanges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angel explores the station and a demon looks at a moment in his past from a different angle.

“Mister Angel’s not playin’ today, then?”

“Buggered off to the Promenade soon's we got here. Wants to experience the _culture._ Prob’ly means food, known him long enough. He’ll catch up with us later – “

“Julian – – what about Garak? You two on the outs?”

“I think he’s just been busy – well you and I played Battle of Britain last week, really not his sort of thing – “

“Was around for that. The real one.”

“You were?” Miles paused in the process of donning his Falcon eyepatch.

“Well, on the ground. Bit of intelligence work. Mind, did manage to divert a German bomb squadron."

“Like to do it in the air?”

“Miles?” Julian’s hand paused on his white tie.

“Let’s see about gettin’ bomber jackets replicated. Spitfires or Hurricanes?”

* * *

“Ah – hello?"

“Right out, just a moment! Feel free to have a look around…”

“Oh, my goodness. This is quite impressive –– “

“How may I help you today?”

“Well – just curious, really – the last thing I expected to find here was a bespoke tailor. I thought everyone got their clothes out of those replication thingys.”

“ _Discerning_ people come to me. I can see you’re among them.”

“I must say, the drape and hand of some of these fabrics are exquisite – I hadn’t thought to, one gets used to old favourites, but – “

“That _is_ quite the unusual ensemble, but it’s clear you’re someone who appreciates the craft.”

“Do you like it? I’ve kept it in tip-top condition for over a hundred years…”

“I’m sorry, my translator must be malfunctioning. I distinctly heard you say one hundred years.”

“Oh, we actually bypass that. We rely on the Pentecostal thing. Though I’ve made a point of actually studying as many Earth languages as I could – sorry, forgetting myself. A. Z. Fell, antiquarian and unusual books.”

“An even more arcane speciality than my own. Elim Garak, master tailor, at your service.”

“Oh – you’ll be the gentleman that Dr. Bashir mentioned – how lovely –”

“Ah."

The temperature in the tailor shop seemed to plummet, although in fact the room was unusually warm for the station. It reminded Aziraphale of Crowley’s flat, which only _looked_ cold.

“So you’re Julian’s new – playmate, are you?

“That would be my husband, really. The doctor’s quite charming, but, well, it’s less my sort of amusement than Crowley’s.”

“I – see. Your _husband._ So your marriage is – ah – open?”

“Oh, _perfectly_ open. It wouldn’t have been so accepted at one time, but now no one bats an eye, at least where we live – oh, what ever is this? So luxurious and understated.”

“Bajoran flax. It’s only just come in – not everyone on the planet will sell to a Cardassian, shockingly enough – “

“Oh, dear, we see the same sort of thing in my business. My… you know, while Crowley’s enjoying his amusements, why shouldn’t I indulge myself as well? You _do_ tempt me…”

“How – ah – _headlong_ of you, Mr. Fell.”

“Well, I won’t get many opportunities, will I? I don’t know quite what’s appropriate in this era, but I’m sure I can rely on your discretion…?”

“Ah – perhaps – “

“He _did_ say I should be more willing to try new things. Oh, do let’s. He’ll be so surprised. Something – impulsive, for a change – “

“Well – since you seem so powerfully fetched, how can I refuse? As you say, others are indulging themselves. This way – “

“Oh, of course. You’ll want my measurements.”

“I’m sure that whatever the dimensions, I can accommodate – “

“I _have_ gotten a bit stout, I admit – “

“Oh, it’s quite – becoming. Even here I rarely see such a – lush – figure… my homeworld is a hungry planet, alas…”

“How much clothing should I remove?”

“Please, your comfort is paramount.”

“Well – trousers, jacket and waistcoat. That should give you sufficient access. Where do you want me? In front of the mirror?”

“That should – do, I suppose… Before we - start, I admit to a scintilla of curiosity about – well, I may have made a misstep with the Doctor, and you might possibly enlighten me. I don’t feel comfortable asking anyone on the station.”

“Oh, certainly.”

“On Cardassia, we express interest in a potential partner by displaying irritation. How is it done on Earth, at least in your era?”

“Well...ah... I have to say, that's more or less what Crowley did with me for centuries.”

“Long courtships are customary then?”

“Well... we had some special obstacles owing to the organizations we worked for – “

“I do understand that type of difficulty.”

“But, you know, love found a way.”

“And yet your relationship remains… open.”

“Oh, before everyone.”

“Enough that he’ll be pleasantly surprised at you propositioning a Cardassian tailor?”

“My dear fellow! – Whatever gave you that – ah –– ?“

Aziraphale found his mouth opening and closing soundlessly, like an ornamental fish’s. Garak’s face was a study in blankness.

“Did I misunderstand you?”

“Oh my – ah – perhaps the translator thingy _is_ playing tricks. I hadn’t the slightest intention – “

“What did you _think_ we were – “ Garak brought a hand up to cover his eyes. “Never mind. Perhaps you would be so good as to strike me dead now.”

“Oh, my dear – my smiting days are really over – don’t be put about. It’s just a cultural miscommunication. I’ve seen it so often. Ought you to sit down –?”

“I’ll be fine. So you were actually just interested in – “

“A suit. You are obviously at the pinnacle of your craft. I have the standing to speak.”

Garak pinched the bridge of his nose. After a few deep breaths he managed, “My apologies for the misconstruction. I am afraid – well, I am not as objective as I ought to be where Doctor Bashir is concerned. It may have distorted my perceptions.”

“Oh, Crowley is a bit the same way. It makes me quite giddy when he shows it. I had no idea.”

“If we are to be friends, you indeed _have no idea_.”

“Ah – I see. Ought I to – “

“No, no – let us start over on the right foot. May I offer you a glass of _kanar,_ our traditional drink? And then we can see about updating your wardrobe.”

“That would be spiffing.”

“Back in a moment, then. I – “

“Yes?”

“You know, I would be lying – and I promise you I _never_ lie – if I said that a part of me isn’t a bit disappointed. Even though I would likely have had regrets.”

“Quite flattered, I assure you.”

“Well – we shall drink to cultural enlightenment, then.”

* * *

“Altogether the crowning work of our literature, spanning seven generations – I shall have a copy on a PADD for you at the shop when you return for your fitting – another round?”

“Oh – all right, let’s be reckless.”

“It represents an entire class of our fiction, but it has never been done better – though there is a poetic epic you might enjoy, in alternating metres – a very strict classical style – two more _kanar_ here? Make it the 2327, I know Quark has it under the bar – “

“I might bring a nearly intact early edition Milton next time. _If_ you promise to handle it in gloves – remarkably close to events as they actually occurred, allowing for some political inflection of course.“

“Oh, isn’t that always the case? Here we are! To cultural attachments! I mean – “

“ _Angel!_ Mmmpphffpfhhh -- ngk! what are you _drinking?_ ”

“Garak! You missed a stupendous game! We were flanked by Messerschmitts – 110 _Dackelbauchs_ that could dogfight forever before having to turn back – Anthony came up from underneath – born flier – “

“And Miles took out a Junker over the Channel – “

“Crowley, you look positively _dashing._ Have you met Mr. Garak? We’ve been discussing Cardassian epic – “

“Leeta! Couple of lagers over here?”

“You’re looking well, Doctor.”

“I’ve missed you in the suite. And at lunch.”

“So sorry. It’s been quite hectic. Perhaps we could remedy that tomorrow?”

“ _Anthonyyyy!_ You’re back! Tongo later? I feel lucky, just disarmed Worf three times – “

“I was fatigued from yesterday’s double shift. Though Jadzia is formidably skilled.”

“Oh, yes, Crowley tells me that you can lick some serious butt.”

“ _Angel._ It’s _kick_ butt. How many times do I have to …”

“Oh, dear. Well, it’s been a day for that sort of thing...”

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's going to show who some stunt flying next? Does even an angel have the patience to read _The Never Ending Sacrifice_? Stay tuned.


	4. Thunderball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets a Klingon education. Crowley gets his deep-space groove back.
> 
> _“I was told you were the first to place a weapon in Human hands, that they might do great deeds.”_
> 
> _“Oh, dear – I’ve never really thought about it like that – “_
> 
> _“And that you went into the underworld in the shape of your_ par’mach’kai _, and came away scatheless, armed only with something called a loofah – even the great Kahless carried the first bat’leth to make that journey – “_
> 
> _“Gracious, I fear Crowley is talking me up far too much."_

"Ah -- dear me, that one wriggled away -- much livelier than sashimi, I'm afraid -- well, as I was saying, I'm rather reminded of the twelve-tone sonority, but there's more heart to it. Hints of Orff and the later Strauss, I must see if they have any in the libraries here. Perhaps you could play me some after dinner? Chances are Crowley will be in that Quart place all evening with the Doctor.“

"Doctor Bashir is a child. I do not know why beings of your nature consort with him."

"Well, Crowley has a certain boyish streak himself, you know, it's part of his charm."

They were in the Klingon restaurant on the Promenade, full enough at the end of the station day that the chef was limbering up his voice with an aria from _Aktuh je Melota._ The _gagh_ was especially frisky, and almost leaped into the small glasses that arrived with the _gladst._

“Mmm – a bit like shiitakes, though I couldn’t place the sauce. – Is this ever _prune_ juice? What an unexpected accompaniment.”

"I made sure it would be available tonight. I understand that you were a mighty fighter in your day, and wished to honour you with a warrior's drink.”

“Ah – Crowley does exaggerate my accomplishments. _He_ went through fire to stop the world ending. I only rode to meet him.”

“It should be celebrated in song, like the deeds of our heroes.”

“Well, truly, we prefer a quiet life. We’ve been thinking about a small cottage. Wouldn’t do to have people hanging about for a sight of us. Oh, these are tasty – “

“ _Zilm’kach._ Fruit is a luxury on Q’onos, or was once.”

“You must have loved Earth, then – didn’t you say you spent time there when you were younger? So many sorts of fruits – well, frankly, that’s rather where things started to get complicated, back at the beginning – “

“I was told you were the first to place a weapon in Human hands, that they might do great deeds.”

“Oh, dear – I’ve never really thought about it like that – “

“And that you went into the underworld in the shape of your _par’mach’kai,_ and came away scatheless, armed only with something called a loofah – even the great Kahless carried the first _bat’leth_ to make that journey – “

“Gracious, I fear Crowley is talking me up far too much. He did no less, you know.“

“I would hear the tale, if you are willing.”

“Oh – mmm, the squirming does give it an extra snap – perhaps a bit more of this peppery stuff – well, perhaps I should start with the lost book of prophecies…”

* * *

“Sorry, boys. I’m stealing him this time.”

“Aw, Jadzia! Julian’s friend just sent us the new episode – the one with the underwater battle – “

“And _I_ just got cleared to shake down the new runabout piloting program on the _Rubicon_. Anthony? You coming?”

“I – ah – “

“Born flier, didn’t you say, Chief? Promised him a spin last time – “

“What’s the duffel bag for?”

“Ask no questions and I’ll tell no lies.”

“Did you get authorisation for a passenger?”

“What did I just say?”

O’Brien looked down philosophically at Crowley’s abandoned lager as Jadzia pulled the slightly flustered demon toward the door of Quark’s, then lifted it. “No point letting good synthohol go to waste.” Gulped, grimaced: “You can see why those two get along.”  


* * *

“Oh, I can quite understand. I’ve lived in my own shop for decades. It simplifies things.”

“It is not luxurious, but I do not require luxury. Also, no one complains of the volume. Klingon opera is not for the ear alone -- it must be experienced in the bones and bowels.”

“You make it sound downright – strenuous.”

“We are a warrior people. Though I fear my world has lost its way.”

“When I was at Garak’s for my fitting he mentioned something. That the times have separated you both from your people. I do know the feeling.”

“You must use care with Garak. He is without honour.”

“Well, really – Crowley’s a demon, and everyone said things like that about him, but look what we did together in the end. You know, there was a point where I had my sword, and he was ready to fight for the planet armed with nothing but a tyre iron –– ah –– a crude mechanical implement.”

“I will consider your words.” Worf drained his prune juice. “Come. Let us adjourn to the _Defiant,_ and drink bloodwine, and hear the tale of Kahless and Lukara.”

* * *

“I can’t believe you fit in that duffel. Benjamin must have been telling a little bit of a fish – er, snake story.”

“Size’s sort’ve optional. I hid in Aziraphale’s sofa cushions once.”

“Do I want to know why?”

“Pro’l’ly not.”

“Okay, this is the secondary console – in an actual engagement, if the pilot’s disabled these controls can take over seamlessly. The upgrades make an override possible from my position, so if you promise to be _very_ good – did I say something funny?”

“Nah, just – thinkin’.“

“We’ll have you try some manoeuvres once we’ve cleared Bajoran space. I’m thinking of a short jump, there’s a binary between here and Starbase 9 I want to show you – maybe you better snake again. I’m going to have to open a channel for departure clearance.”

* * *

“Now, the second act chronicles Kahless’ journey to the underworld. Sto-vo-kor, where he now receives our honoured dead, had not yet been created. He forgives his brother and leads his kin back to the living lands…”

“Earth has similar stories – especially the Greeks, I must see if the libraries here have the Graves compilation – oh, certainly, another. Quite remarkable stuff. Cheers.”

“I know no one else from Earth who can drink bloodwine like a Klingon.”

“Well, Crowley and I have centuries of practice.”

* * *

“Having fun yet? You did good – I hardly had to correct for you – “

“Well, lot’ve experience flyin’. I mean _flyin’_ flyin’. ‘N it’s changed a little bit, but used to spend some time around there – nice seein’ it again – “

“I could tell.”

“Gotta bring the angel out in one’ve these. Never hear another word about _my_ drivin’.”

“Okay. We are now back in a slightly sub-synchronous orbit over Bajor – we’ll seem to be drifting slowly over the planet at the level of the equator, so you can get a sort of tour – up on the viewscreen now – _what?_ “

“Someone drivin’ in the wrong lane, ennit?”

“Evading – _dammit!_ Hang on, Anthony – “

A crackling came over the comm channel. “ _My life for yours, Federation interloper!!! Bajor for the Bajorans!”_

“Changing course to follow us – trying to ram – “

“Bloody hell! You get this kind of thing most days?”

“No – some people on Bajor don’t like us any better than the Cardassians, but I thought we were done with this –– that’s an _atmosphere skimmer,_ he can’t handle the stresses up here – if he blows this close we’ll take damage – “

Without thinking, Crowley snapped. There was the not-sound of something in a place where nothing had been a moment before, a sudden hiccup in the ship’s gravity –

“Instruments saying – we’re on the _other side of the planet – Anthony?”_ Because the demon, both feet off the floor, was whirling his seat in a circle and pumping his fists.

“Still in orbital position over night side of Bajor – “

“They got a Hell down there? Anything like it?”

“Well, something called the Fire Caves – _why do we care right now? – Snake,_ Anthony – _down!_ Opening a channel – Dax to Ops, requesting support, just evaded a Bajoran terrorist on a suicide run – “

“Old man! Did you just make a warp jump inside a _gravity well?”_

“Captain! What’re you doing in Ops this late?”

“We received a message from the _Kohn-Ma_ – ”

“Are there more?”

“ – disowning the pilot’s actions, attempting transport now – vessel’s breaking up in our tractor beam – “

“Got ‘im, Captain,” came a buzzy voice over the crackling channel.

“Status, Commander.”

“Undamaged, sir – but ah, the ship does seem to be responding erratically – I’ll bring her in on impulse thrusters.”

“Docking Bay Six cleared for you.”

“Roger. Dax out. – _Anthony, did you do something?”_

“Just a miracle – back home I pull ’em from Downstairs, kind’ve like out of my arse only fancier. Chuck the demon out’ve Hell, still can’t take the Hell out’ve the demon. Didn’t think there was anyplace like that here – “

“Well, the story I got from Kira is that all Bajor’s gods used to live in the Celestial Temple – that’s what they call the wormhole – “

“Big donut thingy.”

“Right – only some of them got thrown out, not clear why, and now they’re in the Fire Caves down there – “

“Yep.” Crowley drew out the final P with a meditative pop. “Sounds _familiar_.”

“So – you mean you used something from down there to jump us clear around the planet?”

“That’s nothin’. Strap in, this is gonna be like takin' the Bentley out on the A-roads.”

“Anthony, what – “

“ _Can I get a wahoo?”_

_"Wah - HAAAAAGGGGHHH!"_

_* * *_

_“Dax!_ That’s the debris field from the skimmer – it’s still hot, evade – “

“She just blew right through it, Captain. Shields are up.”

“Heading straight for pylon 3 – “

“It’s like she doglegged around it – “

“A runabout can’t do that manoeuvre.”

“ _Old man!_ Brake for tractors – “

“Swear she just did an Immelmann – “

“I didn’t think they could do that either – “

“Comms not responding – “

“And a wingover – “

“Flight path stabilizing.”

“Coming on towards Bay 6 – “

“Captain _zztttt_ approaching docking bay on quarter impulse, stable _zzzttt_ this speed _get down –– “_

“Heading your way. Where’s the Chief?”

“Off shift – said he'd be in Quark’s – "

“Have him meet me there, gogogo.”

* * *

O’Brien arrived just as the docking check was complete, a few steps behind Sisko, still wearing the leather jacket, tee shirt and eyepatch of his Falcon persona. After a quizzical look from the Captain he snapped the patch off.

Jadzia emerged from the port door, a little flushed, duffel over one shoulder, as if she’d just come from a workout.

“You okay, old man?” said Sisko. “I’ll get that – “

“I’ve got it, Captain.” O’Brien interrupted.

“Need you to run a basic systems check, Chief. Just to tell if it’s safe to leave her docked here without powering her all the way down. Full diagnostic in the morning.”

“I’d like Commander Dax with me, if that’s no problem.”

“Old man? You need to go to Sickbay?”

“I’m fine, Benjamin – I’ll help the Chief here – you have to talk to Bajor – “

“Yes. I do.” Sisko turned to leave. “I’ll want your preliminary report by 0800.”

* * *

“Promenade.”

Miles waited until the turbolift doors closed completely before setting the duffel on the floor..

“All right, Anthony. You can come out now.”

The snub, mottled snake nose emerged tentatively before resolving upward into a familiar demon shape.

“I suppose you’re not going to tell me.”

“Don’t s’pose I need to.”

The hubbub of Quark’s was unchanged from an hour ago, except that the shouts of _Tongo_ from the mezzanine were possibly louder. And that a white riot of tufty curls rested on the table next to Julian, who was trying unobtrusively – and unsuccessfully, to judge from his expression – to use a medscanner.

“Angel? You all right?”

“He’s been drinking with Worf,” Julian explained.

“Oh, God,” breathed Miles with a fervour that suggested bitter experience.

“Crowley? ‘S’at you? Mph. Forgot. ‘S' real thing. Not this synthohurl. Hol. 'N’ can’t use miracle t’sober up. Don' know which way Heaven is fr'm here.”

“Worf carried him in over one shoulder,” Julian elucidated. “Just slid him into the chair and said something about a warrior’s heart. Went off singing.”

“Jus’ discorporate me ‘n’ feed me t’the computer.”

“What’d Quark think of that?”

“Just said he was cut off.”

“Angel? Got a better idea.”

“Mph?”

“Come on up to the observation deck? It'll help you focus -- can see the wormhole from the far end, right?”

“Already ate all th’worms. Gonna die now.”

“Shut up, angel,” said Crowley tenderly, hoisting a beige cashmere arm up over his shoulders. “This shouldn’t take long. Back in a tick.”

“What happened?” Julian asked as the pair stumbled out onto the Promenade.

“Ask no questions and I’ll tell no lies.”

* * *

“That was entirely _remarkable_ – it was absolutely like Heavenly energy, just a bit more tingly – worked like, well, a miracle – “

“So now we’re both set.”

“I _am_ rather enjoying these jaunts. Do you know I’m apparently a hero?”

“Made sure of it.”

“My dear.”

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opera Worf plays for Aziraphale is "u," which is an actual through-composed opera in Klingon that has had several European performances, telling the story of Kahless from his betrayal by his brother Morath through his courtship of Lukara, his eventual ceremonial suicide and the founding of the Klingon Empire. You can find [a clip on YouTube here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LmQGO5U2n6s&list=RDLmQGO5U2n6s&start_radio=1)  
> If you're enjoying, share, reblog, comment! Fanart and podfic more than welcome.
> 
> Come say hello on Tumblr @CopperPlateBeech


	5. Knowledge Of Good And Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angels give comfort and counsel because that’s what they do. Demons… do something else.

Kira took comfort from talking to the angel. He was holy in a sweet, approachable way, like a very young or very junior Prophet, untainted by the politics that seemed to be poisoning the Vedek Assembly.

“I do understand. Completely. The day that I realized my line manager had gone completely off on a tangent from the Ineffable Plan…”

“What’s that?”

“Well, that’s the thing. You can’t ever know – it’s ineffable. But I’m sure Gabriel and the rest weren’t following it. You simply don’t incinerate a whole planet to prove a point.”

“Oh, tell that to people like Dukat. And now I'm supposed to work with him, and there's Ziyal, so he turns up when I least expect it -- "

“That sweet young woman who drew my portrait? You know Crowley somehow managed to take it back with us, he’s hung it in his flat now, and the only other drawing in there is by one of Earth’s most revered artists. – What did you say this is called again?”

“ _Hasperat._ They serve better at Quark’s, but I’m due on shift.”

“It’s quite piquant. Now this Dukat is…?”

“Ziyal’s father. Her mother was a – comfort woman during the Occupation. Like mi - ine – ahh – sorry, it’s – .”

 _Resistance fighters_ don’t cry; zeal and purpose carry them beyond tears. _Terrorists_ know even less of grief or mercy.

Bajoran faithful in the presence of a kind angel need a handkerchief, and this angel apparently carried one. A soft, plump hand covered the one of hers that wasn’t dabbing at her eyes.

“Oh, dear, oh, dear. I’m so sorry.”

“She could almost be my little sister… and her father is the butcher of Bajor.”

“As bad as all that. _Dear me.”_ The last two words were almost inaudible.

“I tell myself – he gave up his career, his marriage, his birth family for her… But I _can't stop_ hating him, and he _knows_ it -- if I could just once wipe that _smirk_ off his face...”

“My dear, I know just how hard it is to cope when your world comes apart around you. Crowley was always the questioner… he might know better than I how to counsel you.”

“Maybe I just needed…. someone to hear me. I can't talk to the... The Kai calls me child. I'm no one's _child_...”

“Well, I’m always glad to listen.” There was more than pressure to the little squeeze he gave her hand; it felt like the conclusion of the Time of Cleansing, when light seems to shine through you and the heart sings with praise.

“I have to get to Ops.”

“And I believe I’ve got a final fitting in just a few minutes. Lovely to encounter you.”

“Thank you… so much for…” Language faltered. _What was it you just did?_

“Think nothing of it. Now when is the Festival again? Time seems to run in parallel – Crowley’s done something with that clever wristwatch of his, so we can keep track – "

“I’ll check the Federation stardate.”

“Pip-pip, then.”

* * *

“Well, we’ve got the monastery garden. Don’t get many requests for that one, but sometimes the Bajorans on the station use it to meditate… pretty bridges, statues. With or without prylars walkin' around. Sounds awful, I know.”

“Nah. Lookin’ for something that’s just a garden. Just trees and flowers. And a wall. Gotta have a wall. And an apple tree.”

“So this is pretty _specific_.”

“Lookin’ to, ah… re-create a moment. ‘Nother one of these?”

“This early? Your funeral. What about this – nah, teaching program for Bajoran farming, Blessed Exchequer knows what that’s doin’ here – tell you what, I can do a custom program. Statues out, wall in. Could have it for you next time. One bar of latinum.”

“Ten strips.”

“Fifteen.”

“Deal.”

“Up front.”

“Have it for you after Dabo tonight.”

“I still don’t know how you’re doin’ it.”

“Wouldn’t be a secret if you did, would it? Oh… ‘n’ I’ll want a picnic basket packed when I pick it up. Extra desserts. Top end champagne, two bottles.”

“Another bar.”

“ _Three_ bottles then. And the closest thing to a real Earth apple that you can get.”

“You got it.”

“ * *

“Yes, I think that hem needs to come up just – this – tiny – bit… The ivory flax truly is your color. It’s undyed, you know, that subtle shimmer is part of the fibre.”

“I can’t think how you worked in all the extra pockets without disturbing the drape.”

“I have my secrets.”

“So people tell me.”

“Oh, yes, people love to gossip about the Cardassian tailor. – Turn around now – Did you have any time to devote to the book?"

“Well, I’m up to the fortunes of the third generation. I was a bit afraid to take it along the way we come and go, but anything we can carry on our persons seems to make it all right – a bit of groatcake, some of that delightful young woman’s artwork – “

“Ziyal. Yes. A sweet child.”

“She quite burst with delight when I told her how I was enjoying your acquaintance.”

“Yes. It is a bit of a… problem.”

“Why ever?”

“Well, her father detests me, for one thing. And I assure you the feeling is mutual.”

“Always difficult.”

“And… she seems to have formed an – attachment that I could not reciprocate in any case… Do you ever develop this kind of problem? There, let me adjust this – arms up – “

“Oh, well, every so often someone gets the wrong shop, as they say. Usually it’s been a father who imagined I would be a wealthy match, less of that as time goes on. I end by becoming the girl’s avuncular friend.”

“And so I hoped to be for Ziyal, but…”

“Well, you know, you could let your real attachment show.”

“Could I? What would be the fate of a Federation officer who formed a liaison with a Cardassian spy?”

“I imagined you were not just playing that _game._ One learns to notice things.”

“You are cleverly not answering my question. I also learn to notice things.”

“My dear Elim, I have only a passing acquaintance with the mores of your time. But you know, Crowley and I hid our feelings even from ourselves for so long. We lost _so_ much time. And yet it was our declaration of mutual trust – if that’s what you call standing on an airfield to face down our respective line managers – that put us beyond retribution. Well, that and a little subterfuge. But I suspect you have skills in that area.”

“And then?”

“Well, after that – well, I suppose things simply _unfolded._ ”

“You seem quite happy.”

“Blissfully.”

“One can only be envious. There we are then, I’ll have this ready to go next time. More tea? Or would you say it’s late enough in the day for a bit of _kanar?”_

* * *

" ‘N that’s what she looks like under the hood – few little tweaks of my own, custom manifold, gearlifters – “

“So you’re still using the old petrol-and-air mix?”

“We’ve got electrics on the road now, but nothing can fly like she does. Had her since 1926, from new – oh right, this one's from when we went to Bournemouth, he had six of those drinks with parasols and fell in…”

“Chief. Mr. Crowley.”

“Ah. ‘lo, Garak.”

“Might I sit? I’m a bit early to meet the Doctor.”

“Ah – that’s all right. Just goin’. Gotta check in a load of stem bolts. See you later, Anthony?”

“Thought you were friends,” said Crowley as Garak slid into the seat that Miles had vacated, setting down a cup of _raktajino_ fresh from the replicator.

“He can barely be civil to me except for Doctor Bashir’s sake. To him I’m just a _dirty Cardie._ History, you know.”

“Know the feeling, mate, you should hear some’ve the things Heaven says about my old lot.”

“And yet.” Garak nodded at Crowley’s mobile, which was still displaying a photo of a drenched, beaming Aziraphale, sitting in the surf in a completely ridiculous bathing costume.

“This is a PADD from your time? Data, images?” Garak caught the trick of swiping and tapping almost instinctively, leafing through the gallery – Aziraphale in front of the duckpond; Aziraphale caught in a domestic moment with a lap robe and a book.

“He told me yours was a long courtship. But that you overcame your – cultural barriers.”

“Oh, well, needed a bit of help, he did.”

“Do tell.”

“Well, y’know, did what we did? Wild ride, save th’planet, face down both our Head Offices. ‘N then he’s _right_ back to what we’ve been doin’ for dog-years – meet for lunch, tell stories, bang on about the wine vintage – “

“How -- familiar.”

“So I say to myself, no one’s lookin’ over our shoulders any more, this time I’m bloody _done_ , ‘n’ the next time he did that little thing he does – you’ve seen him eat?”

“I always offer my customers some red-leaf tea and larish pie.”

“Closes his eyes? The little wiggle?”

“Yes. It is – expressive.”

“So when he did that – it was the choccy souffle – I stopped time – “

“You can do that? A useful skill.”

“Takes a bit out of me, but if somethin’s important – “

“And? I am all ears.”

“Leaned over and ate it right out of his mouth. Gotta say, it cut to the chase.” Crowley’s look was distant, reminiscent. “Not even that much on chocolate, myself.”

“But definitely – quite a lot – on, ah, him.”

“Six ways to a Sunday.”

“My translator didn’t quite get that.”

“Reckon _you_ did.”

“Hm. You know, I’m… well, my line of work has always been about subtlety…”

“Yeah, and some people’re dense and need a whack in the face with a wet towel. Just sayin’.”

“You’ve given me something to think about… Hello, Major.”

“Borrow Anthony from you for a moment?”

“Be my guest. I see my luncheon companion approaching… Do you know if the replicator makes chocolate souffle?” (1)

* * *

“Chief? A moment of your time?”

“Major! What brings you here?”

“Looking for a strong metal-to-metal adhesive. Something in my quarters that won’t stay put.”

“Ah, well, this’d be the thing. Here’s an ampoule.”

“Thanks, Chief. Knew you’d have something.”

* * *

“I’m asking, Cadet, because you just came back on board the station, _and_ latinum is used by the Ferengi Alliance and the Cardassian Union alike, _and_ I remember some of the things you used to get up to with my son – “

“On my honour as a Ferengi, Captain. I had nothing to do with it!” Nog delivered his third denial with his characteristic fervour. “I swear by the Great Material Continuum.”

“All right, Cadet. Dismissed. – Major?”

“What was all that about?”

“Trouble I don’t need. Apparently Dukat exited Ziyal's quarters this morning to find a slip of latinum lying in the corridor. Attempted to pick it up – “

“Sounds like the cheap bastard he is.”

“I’ll ignore that, Major. I don’t like his visits any more then you do, but I need to know if a slip of latinum _glued to the floor_ is some kind of symbolic threat or simply a tasteless prank – _Major?_ ”

“Sorry, sir. Can’t help laughing.”

* * *

“Crowley, that was absolutely _exquisite_. You spoil me. The wall – the Tree – if only it could have been like that – “

“It is now, angel.”

“I suppose we should be packing up – I know Mr. Quart stays booked – “

“We can use it again. Custom program, bought and paid for.”

“ _And_ you paid Mr. Garak for the suit. Really, you’re being ridiculously extravagant.”

“Keep winnin’ at Dabo. ‘Sides, gives me the right to take it off you.”

“I suppose that sort of thing happens a lot in here – “

“Computer? Close – “

Instead of responding, the computer interface gave out a staticky burst and a sound like speaker feedback. The Garden, the wall, the fruit trees wavered, and into the middle of Eden tumbled a figure that the original Garden had never seen – face smudged, stick-straight black hair uncombed, pinstriped suit crossed by a red satin sash, fishnet socks rumpled. Steadying on all fours, zhe shook zher head, squinted into the light, looked up; wordlessly reached to the picnic blanket and chugged the last three fingers of champagne out of the bottom of the final bottle.

“It figureszz,” zhe said. “All the way to the fucking future, and first thing, I run into _you_ two idiotszz.”

“Ah – good evening, Lord Beelzebub,” said Aziraphale.

_To be continued…_

(1) It does. (See memory-alpha.fandom.com).


	6. Skyfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lord of Flies has come to play. But zhe hasn't come to _play._ It's a long day for a flustered demon and angel, not to mention their friends on the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've twitched the rating on this fic to T because the language and some offstage rudeness probably don't belong with the fics for prepubescent folk. Just trying to keep it classy.
> 
> Zhe/zher pronouns for Beelzebub. I know I used they/them in Our Man Crowley, but trying to construct some of the sentences in this clearly while using they/them was driving me up the wall. Oh well, you know what Emerson said about a foolish consistency.

“Didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” said the Viceroy of Hell, the Lord of Flies, smacking zher mouth with the back of zher hand and tossing the drained champagne bottle into the empty hamper.

“Ah – no, not really.”

“Have to work on my timing, then.” Zhe turned in a half circle, taking in the Tree loaded with holographic apples, the flossy web of drifting clouds overhead, the dappled light and shadow on the grass. “So this is where you did the job, hah? Sentimental.”

“Um – I believe we have to vacate the suite – “

“Yeah, yeah.”

Crowley’s eyes met Aziraphale’s over zher head. The agreement happened without speech: _we can’t just turn zher loose on the station._ “Close program,” said Crowley in a strangled voice. The door slid open, the happy-hour hum of Quark’s replaced the tranquility of Eden; Beelzebub appeared to be drinking in the loud music, slightly tipsy raised voices, and spatchcocked lighting.

“Vice, indulgence, gluttony, greed,” zhe said. “I’m going to like this.”

* * *

“Whatever’s the most disgusting thing you have. I’m not here to play.”

“Binary Ballbreaker. Aldebaran whisky, Slug-o-cola, float of grappa.”

“Give me a double.”

“Ah – just two brandies here, neat.”

“Happy with the program?”

“Spiffing, thanks.”

“New friend?”

“No,” said Beelzebub, accepting a tall glass of something vaguely green with a slug notched jauntily over the rim. Zher expression at the first sip suggested deep satisfaction.

Crowley pushed a few slips across the bar. He was pretty sure Mammon’s Foreign Exchange office didn’t handle latinum.

“So how – ah – ?”

“Hastur told me what happened when he followed you into the phone network. Thought I’d see. If you don't think I need to blow off some steam after three months of reorganization, and _your old line manager” –_ zhe glared at Aziraphale _–_ “trying to undress me with those revolting violet eyes, you've got no sense _and_ no imagination.” Zhe threw back another gulp of the Ballbreaker. “Liked the idea of being a criminal mastermind. How do I get that set up?”

“Quark can’t rent it to you, it’s a personal program – “

“Fuck. Knew there’d be some kind of a cock-up. First try was bad enough.”

“I suppose there’s always a fly in the ointment,” murmured Aziraphale. Zhe looked at him sourly.

“First try?” said Crowley.

“Gave it a test shot last night. Came out in the middle of something called _Orion Orgasm Overload._ Brrrrrr _.”_

“ _Oi!_ I got that one first time too!”

“They’ve all got crabs now.”

“Oh, dear.”

“All these species rubbing each other’s squashy bits. I don’t know what you two see in it.”

“ _I_ could show you.”

The deep voice behind them belonged to a Nausicaan – well over two metres tall, face a web of prominent bones, hair even blacker and stiffer than Beelzebub’s own, just on the near side of slurring-drunk. Zhe turned, looked him up and down.

“No.”

“Wrong answer, cutie. Get you another drink?”

Beelzebub gazed expressionlessly, nodded, extended a hand behind zher.

Looking apprehensive, Quark mixed another double. “Two slugs,” said Beelzebub, not taking zher eyes off zher new suitor.

"Pretty little thing," said the Nausicaan, toying with the demon prince’s cravat as Quark pressed the tall glass into zher hand, adorned this time not only with slugs but a little lavender parasol. "Where you from?"

“Straight from Hell,” said Beelzebub, and emptied the glass over the Nausicaan’s head.

There must have been something especially caustic in the Slug-o-cola, because the howl of pain that went up was earsplitting, the Nausicaan scrubbing the heels of his palms into deep eyesockets and blundering in several directions at once as if evasive action would outrun the burn, the parasol stuck in his drenched hair. With a final headshake he cleared his eyes and swung.

Beelzebub ducked and wove, leaving Crowley right in the path of a Nausicaan fist. He went snake at the last split second and the Nausicaan followed his own swing in a half-circle, just in time for Beelzebub to break a synthowood barstool over his shoulderblades. Quark was already hitting the commpanel.

“That _stung,_ ” roared the Nausicaan, spattering Slug-o-cola in all directions before bodily picking up the Viceroy of Hell and holding zher aloft by one arm and one leg. One of the Dabo girls screamed, from what seemed to Crowley’s snake ears a long way away. The Nausicaan, clearly already well lubricated, all but overbalanced., toppling a table with an explosion of shattering glass. “ _I WAS BEING NICE TO YOU!!!”_

“Buzz off,” said Beelzebub, meaningly. A thick, sudden swarm of burring flies enveloped the Nausicaan’s head, and the movement that should have slammed Beelzebub to the floor sent him into a full faceplant with the demon prince sprawled across him. He tried to rise, but there was a sudden soundless sound – a light that seemed to go straight to the optic nerve –

Security surged in just as Beelzebub clambered up, looking a little dazed and dizzy, to stand over the Nausicaan, who was out for the count. Zher tottering fist pump put zher in the perfect position for Odo’s officers to cuff zher.

Quark’s head surfaced slowly from behind the bar. Crowley, who had slithered under a nearby table, emerged in his human form, looking suitably innocent.

“He started it,” said Quark. “Also he owes me for the second Ballbreaker.”

“ _Did_ he start it?” one of the officers asked in the general direction of the patrons who hadn’t already fled.

“Oh, absolutely – terribly rude fellow – “

“You two come with us, please.”

Cuffed or not, Beelzebub’s expression was blissful. Crowley didn’t miss the moment when, passing the prone Nausicaan, zhe gave him a sharp little kick.

* * *

“Did you _smite_ him?” hissed Crowley. They were waiting side by side outside Odo’s office while the Constable spoke to one of Bashir’s Infirmary staff.

“I couldn’t think what else to do.”

“That was my _old boss._ The one who thought you were me and tried to dissolve you in Holy Water.”

“And a very refreshing dip it was. It’s the principle of the thing, Crowley – he was _harassing_ zher.”

Crowley rolled his eyes up and his head back, importuning the ceiling as Odo waved them in and indicated chairs.

“Well. It seems the Nausicaan isn’t seriously hurt. I’ve alerted his ship’s captain. Your friend is in a holding cell. They both seem a bit dazed – “

“Oh, that won’t last long,” began Aziraphale, adding “I hope,” as Crowley kicked him lightly in the ankle.

“ – so perhaps you can tell me what happened.”

“Well, we were simply having a quiet drink….”

* * *

“I can’t believe he let us go.”

“ _I_ can’t believe you called _Prince Beelzebub_ one of your _oldest mates_.”

“Well, known ‘em a long time. No point hangin’ out all the washing, is there?”

“ _And_ vouched for zher conduct on the station.”

“Zhe wants to play. Reckon zhe’ll see the sense in behavin’. How long’ll that smite keep’er punchy?”

“Perhaps another half hour. Zhe only got the ricochet, so to speak..”

“All right, let's give zher one game and make it good – “

“Crowley – you didn’t tell Doctor Bashir about our exchanging corporations, did you? If he lets something slip – “

“Just Jadzia. And Worf.”

“You really must learn to rein in your tongue.”

“Not what you said a few hours ago.”

“ _Stop_ distracting me. We have to take care of this.”

“Fine. You look up Worf, I’ll find Jadz, swear ’em to silence. Meet you at the holding cells in half an hour.”

* * *

“Your enemy is my enemy. We are warrior brethren.”

“Oh, truly, there’s no need to take it as far as that. We just can't let zher know about that – trade. Quiet life, you know.”

“I understand. A truce does not justify imprudence.”

“Exactly. If we can simply let zher – ah, work off some frustrations in the holosuite – “

“Where zhe will play as Doctor Bashir’s nemesis?”

“Essentially.”

“You say that zhe took on a Nausicaan in personal combat.”

“Not wisely, but bravely.”

“If it is permissible, record the session.”

* * *

“Oh, Anthony, no problem. Just like I didn’t tell Quark about your little Tongo dodge.”

“Um, I don’t do it every time, y'know.”

“I know. That’s why I don’t tell.”

“Ngk.”

“It does the Ferengi good to be beaten at their own game. Once in a while.”

“You’re aces, Jadz. We’ll get zher out’ve here soon’s we can.”

* * *

“It’s just that I hadn’t planned on playing tonight. I thought you two'd left – “

“Things happened. Gonna be better for everyone if zhe just gets what zhe wants. Trust me.”

“I’m behind with a paper on burns treatment. Critical conference, things are heating up with the Dominion – I’m not even sure it's safe for you to keep visiting – “

"This is me begging you, Julian, just one evening. Make it -- well, just good enough to keep zher sweet. Not good enough to keep bringin' zher back.”

Bashir sighed. “All right, I’ll get Miles. Keiko hates me anyway.”

“I promised her a _tacca chantrieri._ I’ll throw in a cutting from my blue borage.”

“Quark’s in an hour then. We’ll do the two-part episode where Doctor Musca plants doubles in all the nuclear governments.”

* * *

“My dear! Done already? Mr. Garak and I just popped in for a bite, I was getting peckish – “

Miles and Julian looked rumpled and slightly battered. It was hard to say exactly how Crowley looked, because as soon as he sat he dropped his head to the table and began muttering in what Aziraphale suspected was an expressive demonic dialect. His hair stuck straight up.

“Break in play. End of the first act. Zhe’s bloody ruthless – Miles’ shoulder almost went again – “

“Rollin’ down a mountainside in the car chase scene –– “

“After he shot out Anthony’s tyre – “

“And zhe’s locked up the world’s plutonium supply on zher island."

"Not to mention the PM and the Secretary-General."

“Put me in charge of feedin’ human flesh to zher pet caracal. You know what even _holographic_ human flesh looks like?”

“I didn’t even know the game had that feature.”

Crowley moaned. “Angel. You gotta back us up here. I need the moral support.”

“You know I'm no good at the rough-and-tumble ones – “

“Casino scene’s next. You can be the croupier. The high roller. Whatever. Zhe keeps givin’ me that _look,_ it’s puttin’ the wind up me – ”

“Perhaps I can be of assistance,” interrupted Garak, in what Julian had come to think of as his Dangerous Voice.

“Maybe you can think of somethin’ we haven’t. Zhe’s enjoyin’ this too much, never talk zher out of comin’ back at this rate.” Crowley tilted his head toward the Prince of Hell, who was comparing notes with Quark about Mammon’s office and the Blessed Exchequer while he wrapped up an order of tube grubs to go. Periodically he swatted a fly with the barmop.

“Oh, it would almost be a shame to do that. Your friend desperately needs a good tailor.”

* * *

Doctor Prinzip Musca, mastermind of the Apocalypse Option, subverter of the six most powerful nations in the world, stared in horror as the explosion on the screen vaporized what had been the exit locks for zher escape submarine. Zher henchman, the dreaded Falcon, lay prone just inside the door of zher control room, a Webley at his head, held in the hand of Julian Bashir of Her Majesty’s Secret Service

"It was child’s play, Doctor,” purred Elim Garak, Interpol’s most expert codebreaker, known to his colleagues as the Enigma Machine. “The simple substitution codes you were sending your agents through the manipulation of the cards were easy to break. I required only my colleague, Mr. Crowley, to translate the text from the Old Enochian, and now your stronghold is defenceless. The helicopters will be here in five minutes. I advise you to return and face justice. This island will cease to exist in twenty.”

“I sszzzpit on your justice.”

“As you wish. We’ll take the caracal.”

“Kitty-kitty-kitty,” crooned Crowley.

Doctor Musca always escaped, of course. Zhe just didn’t usually have to endure a gloat from the opposition.

“You will find the controls on your chair no longer function. This is your last chance.”

“You’ll never defeat the Doctor – “ shouted O’Brien, for effect. The caracal licked his face, then its chops, thoughtfully.

“I believe we are done here. I regret your stubbornness. It would have been – interesting – to know you – “

A sudden jolt rocked the suite. “I didn’t know there were kinetic effects in this one," said Julian. “Timing’s off – “

Another impact, this one closer, momentarily crashed the simulation. “That’s not the program,” huffed Miles, scrambling up just as the Red Alert klaxon began to sound. “We’re under fire – “

Julian was already out of the suite, nearly tripping over an exiting surge of Quark’s customers.

“This is not in the game?” said Beelzebub.

“ _Angel!_ What happened?”

“Oh, Crowley – I was just having a turn on the mezzanine and –– _oh!”_ A smaller, softer impact tumbled him against the railing.

“ _All personnel to duty stations. Jem’Hadar craft leaving warp – “_

“Oh, dear, should we stay and help?”

“How’re you with phaser cannons?” O’Brien took in the angel’s bewildered stare. “Didn’t think so. Get back someplace safe, you’ve got the option, take it.”

“Come _on,_ angel – “

Crowley pushed his dithering husband toward the interface, grabbed the Lord of Flies by the wrist. The tingle of conversion to their fundamental energies swept over them, a final jolt coinciding with a spit of sparks as they began to hurtle through the digital highway. Another jerk, the narrow wrist slipped from Crowley’s grasp as he tumbled out onto his own office floor –

“What is that dreadful smell?”

“Ansaphone fondue, looks like.”

“What happened to – “

“Lost my grip on Bubs. Don’t think of goin’ back to look.”

“Oh –– I – Crowley, how dreadful. Mr. Garak – Major Kira – that sweet young lady – “

“I have a feelin’ they’ll be fine, angel.”

“I can’t bear not knowing.”

“We’ll find out. Eventually.”

* * *

“I never. This one’s still got a phone in it.”

“Thought they’d all been turned into little libraries and that. Americans buyin’ em up for decoration.”

“Let’s see if it still works – oh!”

“Well, you hear about the homeless problem – is he all right?”

“Uh, he – she – “

Mustering as much dignity as possible, the Prince of Hell levered awkwardly up from a tangled position on the floor of one of London’s last operating red phone boxes and stalked away wordlessly.

“ ‘S’awful when they don’t get to bathe. Look at all these flies.”

* * *

“A harrying raid. Dominion's callin' 'em rogues.They peeled off after our first return of fire. Guess they wanted to gauge our defences.”

“Well, it _gauged_ my nerves. Do you know how long it’s going to take to replicate new glassware?”

“Any injuries in here?”

“Only the holosuite computer. Good of you to lend me back _my own brother –_ can you get it working? I’m booked out tonight – “

“I don’t think so, brother – I’ll have to request some new data solids – I can’t even get it to start the boot sequence – “

“Just throw me headlong into the Vault of Eternal Destitution.”

“Anthony and his friends make it out okay?”

“Haven’t seen ’em.”

“Might never now. That computer rig was a one-off.”

“Shame. They were good customers.” Quark reached for two glasses. “Tell you what, Chief, just once, no charge. Never say a Ferengi can’t appreciate a favour.”

“Make it the Murphy’s Red then.”

“Here you go.”

O’Brien lifted his glass. “To – distant friends.”

“And profit.”

“Cheers.”

_To be continued…._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, we’re not quite done!
> 
> A short time later, Jem’Hadar renegades beamed aboard the station to seize laboratory materials and plant a bomb while Sisko and most of his senior crew were away on the Defiant. Apparently the abortive raid had convinced them that subterfuge would be more fruitful than frontal attack. Or at least, so the author has conveniently decided.
> 
>  _Tacca chantrieri_ is a black, whiskered member of the orchid family, suitable for indoor cultivation, sometimes known as the Bat Flower or Devil Flower.
> 
> If you're enjoying, share, reblog, comment! Fanart and podfic more than welcome.


	7. Falangian Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What you leave behind can wait for your return. Everyone's been through changes: new roles, new homes, new hopes. But you don't forget, even after three hundred years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for aggressive fix-it. :p The author stoutly maintains that Jadzia barely survived Dukat’s assault in the Bajoran shrine; that Terry Farrell should never have had the runaround she got from the network; and that Ezri is a modest, unjoined Trill counselor happily serving in the DS9 infirmary.

“Where were you when you heard?”

“Molly called me at work. _Da, you’ve got to turn on the newschannels._ ‘Bout two seconds later Keiko’s doin’ the same thing.”

“Took a few days to get to us. The Federation consulate actually contacted me and said someone on Bajor was trying to reach us both. Even someone with _her_ connections can’t just get on the commlinks and find people on Cardassia, it’s still a mess. I’ve been training community med techs, Garak’s advising the Council now.”

“You two still together, then?”

“You’re going to ask for the rest of our lives, aren’t you?”

“It’s a tradition.”

“Which you _started_ at the close of our wedding reception.”

“Can’t blame me for askin’.”

“Cardassian joining ceremonies always include the Ritual Of Vexation. It’s how the partners show that their attraction is powerful enough to encompass the other’s flaws. It’s very healthy.”

“Look, that’s – _Jadzia! Hey!_ Is every last prylar on Bajor jammed onto this Promenade? _Over here!”_

“I don’t see Worf.”

“He’s an Ambassador, prob'ly held up ambassading. There'll be formal ceremonies all week, reckon they're pacing it.”

Dax’s Klingon court dress stood out from the orange and yellow robes of the Bajoran religious crammed into what seemed like every nook of the Promenade. O’Brien’s third shout reached her and she began to thread her way over.

“ _Docking now at Bay 10, personal transport of the Grand Nagus of Ferenginar and his consort.”_

"I've dropped the bags off at our lodgings. Did you see what replaced my tailor shop?"

“ ‘lo, Garak.”

“Chief.” An arch nod of the head.

”It’s Professor now, but how about Miles?”

“So informal. It only took, oh, fifteen years?”

“Don’t start flirtin’ with me. – Jadzia, you look beautiful.”

“I can’t wait to get this off and get to Quark's. I haven’t had a good game of Tongo in years.”

“Leeta – !”

 _“Docking in Bay 7, charter transport_ King Charles III.”

“There you are! How was the trip from Ferenginar?”

“Fine, uh, but I want to look at the thrusters later – she’s a little sluggish – “

“The _Grand Nagus_ of Ferenginar workin’ on his own ship?”

“I did, uh, the whole retrofit.”

“Have to show me later.”

“Miles?”

“What?”

“Over there _– “_

Vivid among the new arrivals pouring into the general melee was a blaze of nearly scarlet hair, duffel bag looped over a skinny shoulder. Not far away O’Brien could make out the ivory shimmer of Bajoran flax, a head of tousled hair that was just a shade paler.

“I don’t believe it,” breathed Julian, then jumped an inch off the deck as Miles extended both spread hands overhead and bellowed through the hubbub of Bajoran music and bodies: _“ANTHONYYYYYY!”_

* * *

“How’d you get permits? I couldn’t even bring Molly or Yoshi – Keiko had to stay home with ‘em – “

“Oh, it’s amazing what a little miracle can do. Speaking of which. Mr. Garak.”

“My PADD. How remarkable.”

“Kept in tip-top condition for over three hundred years. Just like the suit. I wouldn’t have worn anything else.”

“Ey, Jadz. This what they’re wearin’ to Return ceremonies these days?”

“Klingon fancy dress. She married Worf, natural end to all that sparrin’ in the holosuites.”

“Know the sort've thing.”

“We were at our villa when we found out – an extravagance, but Crowley insisted, and Alpha Centauri _is_ lovely this time of year – “

“Only way I can pull ‘im away from that shop.”

“It’s a National Trust site now, would you believe it? – and I said, my dear, do you realize it’s been seven years – you just turn around and time's flown by – “

“Thought of visitin' before things got hot, but didn’t want t’run into ourselves -- might, y’know, explode.”

“But once the war was over – oh, we simply _hung_ on the newschannels – “

“Try gettin’ a subspace message through to the arsehole of the Galaxy – “

“And then once we did, to find out – oh dear, it quite bowled me over – “

“And good luck findin’ out where you’d all gone – “

“ _Docking at Bay 11 from Bajor, personal transport of the Kai.”_

A hush settled over the Promenade. Security officers, scattered here and there, grew visibly more alert, and hands stole into hands: Julian and Garak, Crowley and the angel.

Mute common understanding seemed to pass among the assembled Bajoran faithful closest to the disembarkation area, as they shuffled and nudged to clear an open space in front of the airlock. It was quiet enough to hear the hiss of the door as it rolled open.

The first figure to appear was tall and lanky, dark-skinned, carrying a PADD; reaching back to hand into the Promenade a handsome fortyish woman and a wide-eyed girl of about seven. A sheen of tears was visible on the woman’s cheeks; the tall young man’s arm went around her shoulders.

A tintinnabulation of little chimes rose up, like a breeze blowing through a garden, and onto the Promenade, wearing Starfleet’s command red, stepped Benjamin Sisko, Emissary of the Prophets. The chimes faded away.

“Hear a bloody pin drop,” mouthed Crowley.

“What a shame I didn’t bring one,” replied Garak as soundlessly.

“Hush, dear.”

The Emissary turned back toward the airlock port, beckoning forward a short, slight figure, silver-streaked hair half covered by a forage-style cap that matched the gold-damasked, voluminous robes of her station.

She looked humble and delicate for the role. But then, Kai Kira Nerys was still getting accustomed to her title.

The chimes began to ripple upward again.

* * *

“Old man.”

Countless children had been blessed, countless faithful had dipped their heads, and Sisko looked exhausted beyond description. The faithful had reluctantly cleared the Promenade's observation level so that he and his friends could gaze out over the Celestial Temple. At least, that was how he'd phrased the request.

“Benjamin. Should we form a secret society? People who just missed getting killed by Dukat?”

“Let’s join Kasidy and the kids in the Habitat Ring and talk it over. If I have to live through much more reverence…”

“Don’t you have to be at the shrine?”

“Kira’s presiding there. She’ll meet us later.”

“I couldn’t believe it when I heard it.”

“Apparently she couldn’t shake an experience she had right before the war. A _blessing that ran through her bones_ , she said. She entered orders after a few months of command – “

“I got her commpacket. But I couldn’t answer, by that time she was a postulant."

“Kai Tora’s health was always fragile – she was his rock, same as she was mine – “

“Ziyal’s uncle. We heard a bit.”

“And when he started to decline, she’d just been elevated to the Vedek Assembly – sounds like they were a little sparse at that point – “

“I’m monopolizing you. Come talk to some old friends who’ve missed you.”

“Chief.”

“Long time.”

“How’s Keiko?”

“Champion – Molly’s skipped ahead a year, Kirayoshi’s gone in for footie – “

Voices carried from a short distance away.

“Oh, as _soon_ as they come out. Your portrayal of an extended family puts me in mind of Zola – the whole theme of the absent patriarch, of course I grasped the inspiration –– “

“You two.”

Aziraphale’s head turned as Sisko interrupted a literary discussion that threatened epic digression.

“We can’t get rid of you, can we? Still coming through the computer at Quark’s?”

“Ah – no, got here the long way round this time.”

“Beings of energy. I remember.”

“It’s not so bad, once you get used to it.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“It _is_ so indulgent though, having a corporation. It quite bound Crowley and me to Earth. We never really looked back.”

“I know what you mean, Mr. Fell. I can’t wait to get my hands on some pans and knives and make my family some jambalaya.”

* * *

“Armagnac – malt whisky – the last of the 2327 _kanar –_ Murphy’s red, and one vodka martini. _Shaken,_ not stirred.”

“Good on y’, Quark. How’s the place doing?”

“Since the Emissary returned? Profits’re through the roof. Resurrection’s good for business.”

A snifter of Armagnac clinked against a shot of _kanar._

“It was irregular, but I have some small influence on Cardassia – “

“I knew the two of you would find your way – “

Malt whisky toasted a pint of stout.

“Jadz coming round later? Haven’t played Tongo in dog years.”

“She’s at the reception with Worf – “

“Well, we’re here for the week – got the last booking – “

“You two have a knack.”

“Quark. D’ye still have it?”

“Have what?”

“The Eden program?”

“For a consideration.”

“Paid you up front for it.”

“Yeah, and I never got compensated for that barstool. Or your friend’s second drink.”

“Oh, my dear – it’s worth covering a few damages – “

“Well, _I_ brought _Falangian Diamonds Are Forever_ , if there’s a suite free.”

The lights of Quark’s Bar, Grill, Gaming House and Holosuite Arcade glinted through a _shaken_ , not stirred, vodka martini. Julian Bashir, of Her Majesty’s Secret Service, raised his glass in a brief salute, and drank.

“Shall we play?”

_Finis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The showrunners were quite explicit that Sisko would return. No one cared to recapitulate the trope of the “absent Black father,” and the Sisko we know would have crawled over glass, the Fire Caves, and the entire Gamma Quadrant without an encounter suit to get back to his wife, son and unborn child. And then been modest about it.
> 
> Thank you all for following this story with me. It’s been carrying me through a tough moment in my life.


End file.
